


A tribute to Natasha Romanoff

by cool_i_m_dead_inside



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers - Freeform, Avengers Endgame, Endgame, Endgame Fix-It, Endgame fix it, Gen, I have no idea, Marvel - Freeform, Marvel Cinematic Universe - Freeform, Natasha Romanoff - Freeform, Natasha Romanoff is alive, Natasha Romanoff lives, The Avengers - Freeform, black widow funeral - Freeform, black widow lives - Freeform, hooden figure at funeral, how do you use this, mcu - Freeform, natasha romanoff funeral, the black widow lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:53:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23979295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cool_i_m_dead_inside/pseuds/cool_i_m_dead_inside
Summary: Giving Natasha Romanoff a funeral because Endgame didn't, but with a surprise twistAlso a tribute to Natasha and her effects on the world that takes place after the events of EndgameIt shows the impact she had on civilians and recognizes the work she did to save themTakes place over about a year's worth of timea little over 1k words so not to long
Relationships: black widow x avengers, black widow x the avengers, natasha romanoff x avengers, natasha romanoff x the avengers, the black widow x the avengers
Kudos: 22





	A tribute to Natasha Romanoff

**Author's Note:**

> I can't name things and I'm emotional so enjoy  
> I'm trying my best guys I put more effort in this than I do in my school essays  
> This is my fist time uploading here so I'm sorry  
> My tumblr is cool-i-m-dead-inside so if you wan't to contact me please do so there  
> :)

No one likes to let go. To move on from lost friends, or moments you wished you’ve cherished more. That’s the thing about funerals, a final goodbye to sacred moments you can’t get back. Not knowing whether it’s the change the future brings that you’re afraid of, or letting go of the past.

It was on a spring morning, after a good night's rain left fresh dew sparkling so innocently on the grass, that the funeral for the Black Widow was held. There was a mutual sense among the heroes paying tribute that this was the end, there was no coming back. After neglecting the thoughts and feelings that surfaced up, no one could run for much longer. Natasha Romanoff was dead, and they couldn’t fix it. No matter the strength of the hero's assembled, for the first time in a long while they felt powerless.

It was a quiet service, most visitors were too sad to speak. Flowers were disrupted and were soon placed on the freshly dug up soil where a gravestone lay under the shade of an ancient oak tree. It was a symbol, in a weird sense. It was a mark that Natasha was there. She had lived, she had sacrificed, and touched the lives of those that she knew.

After a long period of silence, the last bits of hope that the Black Widow herself would somehow have one more trick up her sleeve and magically appear dissolved. The attendees filed out. Heading off into the unknown vast of space, to a kingdom to run, or back to their families, but one thing was definite. It was a service of honour. She had survived too much to die at the hands of a stone, this couldn’t have been the end.

Time passes, but the memories don’t. Footsteps often approach the grave, mostly in pairs, sometimes alone, and on the odd occasion in groups that have passed by for a visit. Some Natasha knew, others were just strangers to her, wanting to provide thanks for giving them the greatest gifts being alive had to offer. Children's footsteps stomping on the nearby leaves, ships landing nearby as off-world heroes came to visit, and the sound of silent tears were no stranger to the gravestone. The seasons changed but throughout the months the grave was never depleted of a fresh bouquet of flowers. So strange how something representing death can have so much life.

A grave isn’t the only thing to remember a person by. Natasha lived on in the little things. She gave her life for half the universe, and her effects on people could be seen worldwide. In the way a pair of friends reunite, or the pair of old lovers that used to live in a tiny, old house can see one another again. In the hugging family in the old wicker home down the street or the way reunited neighbors share a drink after a long time apart. She was alive through the blanket of optimism that ran throughout the world after the long period of sadness was depleted. You could hear her in the hum of the birds or the laughter of the children on the street. For decades to come, the moments of joy and sentiment between those that were once alone will be because of Natasha. While the world celebrated life, they had lost a hero, and it would never go unnoticed.

Natasha Romanoff wanted to wipe her ledger clean, thinking something could make up for her past actions. However, what she didn’t realize was her ledger was wiped clean long ago. The second she started saving lives instead of harming them she kicked dirt on the Red Room name, proving them wrong. She did have a place, and they didn’t control her. The second you start towards redeeming yourself, you’ve already done it.

She saved lives when New York was attacked, in Sokovia when Ultron hit. She fought Thanos in Wakanda and led the Avengers for five years. She was the soul of the Avengers and left a mark wherever she went. She took down Hydra and rebooted Rodey’s suit when Ivan Vanko got his hands on dangerous technology. She died already saving countless people, and the world wouldn't forget it.

But the weird thing about death is that you have a few options. You can accept it like an old friend, a journey into the great unknown. Others try to run, but it catches up all the same. Then there’s a trick only known to few, the ability to cheat death itself. Natasha Romanoff’s life wasn’t easy, with the Red Room and so many years being stolen away. Death had tried to claim her for years on end, but it could never grasp. Natasha had faced death and lived throughout the years of her life. It was in a sense an old friend, but one she was too smart to meet.

Natasha had lived through events that most wouldn’t survive. There were times in her life where death was a better option than the torture she had to face. But she was strong, and brave, and knew the game of life and death, and she’d won time and time again. It was like a strange dance, surviving, maneuvering, escaping, all out of reach of those that wanted to end her. The universe threw bricks at her and she used it to build a foundation. Cheating death was a skill, one she had mastered and took pride in. She was the Black Widow, and death was always two steps behind.

So it was on one rainy evening, with the weather pulling all kinds of tricks as the changing of seasons began, that the unexpected happened. Some would say you were hallucinating if you were to look out over Natasha’s grave that night. Under the constellations of stars covering the world in wonder, there was a figure. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. One might think it was another visitor. Dressed in all black and blending into the shadows, untouchable from the night sky. Red hair peeking out from under the hood, standing out in the colourless darkness. The Black Widow had cheated death once again.

When the sky would clear, and the clouds would part, she had plans of announcing her presence to those that she trusted. But for now, in the moment, she looked down on the grave, took a deep breath of the air and took in the signs of life. She quite liked the rain, it was comforting in a sense, like it was cleansing the earth of anything that could go wrong. A promise of sorts. A definite statement.

She was alive, and had won that prize fairly. To live, that is. To see the stars cover the dark of the universe like dotted specks or stare into the magnetizing blue of an ocean when the sun is just right in the sky. To experience the grass beneath her feet and see the dust flying in the sunlight as it peeks through a window at noon. She would no longer be depleted of the joys life had to offer.

A cocked smile was visible from under the hood, upon seeing the mark that she had left. A bouquet of flowers still on the grave, the path of footsteps leading off the grass and into the dirt, the lingering notion that people had been there. She had made a mark, and was more than a trained killer. She wasn’t the Red Room’s doing, but Natasha. The red in her ledger wiped clean.


End file.
